The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Asexual Reproduction

(mc, ff, sf)

Synopsis: College life in the era of interplanetary colonization is kind of similar but different – you still have to study and take finals and such, but the classes cover topics like Orbital Mechanics and Xeno-Biology. And depending on which planet you’re on, Xeno-Bio can get particularly engrossing.

[Author’s note: There’s all sorts of familiar themes and imagery in this, all of which generally was done best by those who did it first. (Much like the Beatles.) Here that means Tabico, Trilby Else, thrall, Iago and at least a couple others. I hope they all consider stories like this to be the deepest and most sincere expression of gratitude.]

Amy, Kelly, and I were usually full of friendly chatter and conversation as we went about our days at New Gaia PolyTechnic, but about a month ago this one xeno-biology lecture definitely made an impression. We met at the door in wide-eyed silence as we exited the classroom lab, and even after exchanging nauseated expressions it still took a couple moments until anyone spoke up.

“Damn, Kelly,” said Amy at last, “you were right. That shit is soooo fucked up.”

“I know,” replied Kelly, “and it’s just a fucking plant, you know what I mean? How creepy is that?”

“And that shape,” added Amy. “What possible reasons could a plant have for growing a piece that looks exactly like a human dick, anyway?”

“Fungus,” I said softly as I followed my friends down the hall.

“What?” Kelly asked.

I just kept walking, staring at my feet and not quite realizing Kelly had asked me a question.

“Wendy. Yo,” she said, finally catching my attention. “What do you mean, ‘fungus’?”

“Nothing, sorry,” I replied. “It’s just ... it’s not really a plant – biologically, it’s more like a fungus.” I had a work-study job as a Teaching Assistant in the xeno-bio department, but I usually tried not to bore my friends with details about pistils and stamens and the like.

“Plant, fungus, whatever. It’s fucking disgusting. And could you believe that shit about ‘psycho-sexual reactions’?” Kelly asked, rolling her eyes for effect. “What a crock. She wishes, the old perv...” Blonde and stunning, Kelly saw most things through a prism of sexuality because that’s how most people saw her.

“She did say it was a myth,” added Amy.

“Yeah right, a myth she gets off on every time she’s up in that lab all alone doing ‘research.’ Sicko...” Kelly didn’t really mind the leers she got from her professors, including Walters. Actually she rather enjoyed all the attention, even when it came from women. Kelly certainly wasn’t opposed to the occasional girlfuck and Walters kept herself in nice enough shape and everything – she had a gorgeous pair of breasts, in fact – but, still, Kelly had a serious boyfriend at the moment, and besides, Walters had to be at least, like, 40 in terran years. Eww.

“It is kind of amazing, though,” continued Amy. “You get so accustomed to thinking only animals can exhibit that kind of predation, but competition is competition, right? So by definition, any native species that survived the pre-colonial terraforming would have had to be the ones that adapted and found ways to continue to propagate. And think about it, lots of parasites alter the behavior of their hosts, this one evidently just altered things a little more ... profoundly.”

As bouncy and bubbly as her short brunet curls, Amy was the friendly one among us – and her heavy, delectable breasts and full, ripe hips made her a very nice friend to have. None of us found it particularly hard to attract lovers, and together we were basically the apex predators of the social food chain at PolyTech.

“Yeah, whatever. Save it for finals, brainiac.” Kelly got almost all A’s, too, but never missed a chance to tease Amy for being the smartest. “Look, I’m going to have to skip the coffee shop today, girls – I’ve done next to nothing for that Orbital Mechanics test on Friday, so I’m going to hit the books instead. Kisses!”

After a quick wave in reply, Amy and I headed off as a pair, but after only a couple steps I pulled up short. “Shit,” I said, patting my pockets. “I, ummm ... Shit, I think I left my, uh, commlink back at the lab – Ames, you go ahead and get us a table, I’ll catch up. Order me a latte, okay?”

“Oh. Well, ... okay,” said Amy forlornly as I hustled off back the way we came. “Bye.”

* * *

I’ve always had a knack for little white lies, but even to this day I still cannot believe I pulled that one off. The way my heart was racing, I barely made it out of the lab without having a heart attack – or more likely, given the circumstances, collapsing under a tidal wave of orgasms.

Even as aroused as I had gotten during class, though, I truly didn’t intend to act on it until Kelly begged off our traditional post-class coffee break. With her gone, I knew I could misdirect Amy, so as soon as the opportunity presented itself, I guess I just found myself going for it without really having made up my mind about it.

Like a lot of Asian girls, I’m pretty small and firm up top, so I often just skipped the bra. Today was one of those days so now with each step I took back toward the lab my swollen, sensitive nipples sizzled back and forth delightfully against the inside of my shirt. “I’m only going back to look at them,” I promised myself. “Only to look. Look but don’t touch.” My naughty little pussy was fairly squishing with anticipation.

I still wasn’t convinced my friends hadn’t caught onto anything, but they sure hadn’t seemed to; and truth be told, in the state I was in, I didn’t really care very much either way. In fact, I had been in a frenzy ever since old lady Walters unveiled the specimens for the day’s xeno-bio lecture: Lovelock spores. Real ones. Right there in front of me. Hundreds of years old, and long since dead and dessicated, Walters had insisted, but even during the lecture – as soon as I saw the close-ups on the hologram projector – I knew Walters was wrong.

In fact, I bet no one on Gaia knew as much about Lovelock spores as I did – obviously not Walters, who must have learned everything she knew about the spores from other scientists. To be fair, Walters’ lecture had focused not so much on the mechanics and biology of the spores as on their history and mythology, and and she’d largely gotten the historical context exactly right.

The story among some of the colonists was that the whole planet was a cohesive system; one which affirmatively managed the balance between its resources and inhabitants through seemingly unplanned variations in things like the location and amounts of rainfall and the spread of vegetation. The Lovelock spores fit into this story in a fascinating way: the spores were said to be parasitic, and used humans to reproduce not only the spores themselves, but ultimately also other humans, in a sense.

Once grotesquely and painfully impregnated, the history books said, women would reportedly spawn several new spore pods first, before eventually giving birth to nightmarishly mutated human/fungus hybrids with poisonous blood that spit fire and ate children, or something like that. There were no reports of the spores being implanted in men.

The professional scientists among the colonists debunked these reports, considering the spores to be just an unusually well-adapted form of incompatible local flora, and listed the spores among the other native species that were to be eradicated as the colonists themselves completed the final terraforming by hand.

I, however, had spent countless hours reading through the settlement’s archives. I focused on the first-hand reports in the original wikis, not just the digests prepared by the Gaian authorities for the history books.

Dozens of those reading sessions had ended with my panties bunched up around an ankle and my fingers strumming myself through one soul-shaking come after another as I read about women from the original settlements losing themselves – or, more accurately, eagerly and ecstatically volunteering themselves – to the enchantments of the soul-sucking “demon fungus.”

Some of the descriptions were incredibly, almost reverently detailed, and I had a long mental favorites list of the archive addresses for the really good ones. Over time, I’d learned about how the spore pods could go dormant in order to survive droughts, floods, radiation storms – just about anything, really; and I read about how the original settlers eventually figured out how to tell the dead ones from the dormant ones and eradicated them.

Or so they thought. Within 10 seconds of looking at the pods Walters had brought into class, I was positive they weren’t dead – and I couldn’t help getting steadily hotter and creamier thinking of creative new ways to bring them out of dormancy.

By the time I arrived back at the door to the lab, I was fit to be tied. Taking out my TA key and pausing for a second, I took a deep breath and let myself in.

* * *

I could hardly believe my own irresponsibility. I had no idea how I could ever explain it, but who knew if I’d ever have an opportunity like this again? I was so close, and besides, the whole lab building was nearly deserted by mid-afternoon anyway. It’s not like there would be any witnesses.

I also wasn’t totally sure it would even work: I had found a big-ass textbook that I thought might do the job, but the book wasn’t particularly hard, just heavy. On the other hand, the display case didn’t appear to be all that strong...

At the time, the sound the case made when it shattered seemed deafening, but to my relief and incredulity, even after waiting through several breathless moments no one seemed to have noticed. I held my breath in equal parts panic and arousal, but no one rang in over the classroom commlink, no fat campus security guard came puffing up to the door. The pods weren’t exactly protected like a bio-hazard, but why would they have been? Long dead fossils were no threat, right?

“Just gotta take one out to get a really good close look,” I thought, as I put down the book, “then I’ll put it right back.”

The ferocious surge of arousal that hit me when I first felt the heft of the first spore case in my hand was like nothing I could ever have imagined. This was no dried out, ancient relic; this had mass and purpose and vitality. I trembled and felt beads of sweat lining up on my forehead as I gently withdrew the alien object through the broken glass and held it in front of my face.

“Gods, it’s beautiful,” I thought, staring intently at the spore’s outer shell and cradling it reverently in my hands. It was roundish and oblong, a little smaller than a rugby ball, with a smooth, rippled, slightly translucent surface. It seemed coated in some kind of hard, shiny enamel – but just underneath, the skin shimmered with wild, deep swirls of colors. Midnight blues, forest greens, inky, dark browns; all interweaving above, through, and underneath each other.

I was transfixed. I found what she thought may have been a small crack in the top of the casing, and lightly ran my fingertips over it as I would the skin of a lover.

“So smooth ... and so pretty...” I moaned softly to myself. “Gods, there are Lovelock spores right inside here, right in my hands. Real spores just like the ones that took all those women back when Gaia was first colonized. Ohh, Gods, just imagine the enticement, the surrender, and then the sensations of being seeded by a...” Sighing, I caught myself sliding a hand towards my crotch.

“NO, stop it,” I commanded myself, snapping out of my reverie just before my fingers made it underneath my skirt. “Just stop. This is getting out of hand,” I thought, taking a deep breath. “This fetish is gonna get me busted.”

Taking another look around the lab, I promised myself, “Just check out the others, really quick, then they all go right back in the case. And then I head back to the dorms and spend the rest of the day jilling off like a maniac...”

* * *

My face and neck must have been downright fluorescent as I locked the classroom door behind me as quietly as I could and quickly hustled across the hall to the women’s bathroom. There was no way I’d be able to keep up the facade if I ran into anyone now, my thinking was that one quick wank session couldn’t take more than a couple minutes. Honestly, I felt like I could come any second already. “Hello?” I asked, with a quakey, wavering voice as I walked through the bathroom door.

My mouth was parched and I had to clear my throat before speaking again. “Anybody in here?” Sighing with lust when I heard only silence in response, I put my bag down on the floor of the handicapped stall and walked back to the door.

“One quick come, just so I can get my composure back,” I thought to myself. “Just take a few minutes here in private, have the best come of your lifetime, and then they all go right back to the lab.” I turned the deadbolt with shaking fingers, caught a guilty glimpse of myself in the mirror over the sink, and then hurried back to the stall where I left my bag.

My panties were soaked nearly to the waistband, and practically dripped as I pushed them down my legs with my skirt. I kicked off my shoes but kept the socks, and turned in place to sit on the toilet seat. My skin and blood sparkled as though electrified as I reached between my legs for my backpack.

The sensation of cool air against the soaking heat in my crotch and the cold, hard seat just under my steaming pussy reminded me of some of the best cums of my life – back in high school, during slumber parties at a girlfriend’s house, when after a spirited round of spin the bottle I would similarly sneak into the bathroom to rub one out.

It was comical how eager my girlfriends and I were to use the game as a pretext to make out for hours, even though none of us was willing to be the one to take things beyond “kissing practice.” Still, though, there were usually at least two or three bathrooms around, so I always managed to find some private space to cum in. I’m pretty sure we all did.

Here in this bathroom, though, my breath was caught in my throat as I lifted the biggest pod out of my bag. It felt warmer now than it did in the lab, but maybe it was just me. Warmer or not, though, it had definitely changed. The surface seemed less like enamel, and somehow softer. It was still shiny, but it had kind of a give to it more like patent leather. I nearly panted as I turned the case around in my hands, looking for the crack I’d spotted moments earlier in the lab.

I had another flash of recollection when I found it, something I had read about ending the dormant period of the spores. “Heat and moisture,” I thought feverishly, and then with a gasp raised the spore to my mouth and extended my tongue.

The taste was strong, and spicy, and I shuddered through a mini-orgasm when I considered how much it tasted like pussy. “More like Amy than Kelly,” I thought, thinking fondly about the more overt lovemaking I shared from time to time with my college girlfriends. Spin the bottle had given way to spin the dildo – and although we all had boyfriends and none of us identified ourselves as lesbians, for straight girls we sure did eat a lot of pussy.

When I went back to lick the crack again, I felt the skin of the case shudder just a bit under my tongue, which startled me enough I nearly dropped it.

Staring intently at the spot I just licked, I noticed the skin of the pod unmistakably cracking open a little. Leaning in for a really close look, I noticed that the swirls just underneath the enamel were actually leaves – leaves which were sliding apart from each other and spreading open ever so slowly.

Inspired, I reached down to touch myself for a moment, shuddering as I wet my fingertips in the puddle between my legs and then brought those dripping fingers back up to gently caress the broadening gaps in the outer layers of the pod.

It jumped again when my pussy-slicked fingers made contact, and then began a subtle, rythmic pulsing from base to top. I watched, fascinated, as each pulse steadily opened up the pod like a blooming flower. There were more delicate petals just underneath the larger, tougher leaves on the surface, and with a quick glance down I could watch my own petals spread wider and thicker, mirroring the alien petals I held in my hands.

I gasped again when the very tip of the stamen – the dick-shaped sex organ Professor Walters had illustrated to Amy’s fascination just hours earlier – revealed itself between the innermost labia of the pod.

It raised up steadily and inexorably under my gentle caresses, growing up and out towards full erection like a slow motion hard-on. “This can’t be random,” I thought, “it’s like this was intentionally molded to appeal specifically to humans...”

It really did look incredibly similar to a human penis, but it wasn’t identical. It was pale purple, for one thing, with very fine, dark green and red ridges like the underside of a leaf. And as it stretched out of the pod and I reached out to wrap my fingers around it, I thought to myself that as cocks go, this one would have been a monster.

It also had its own kind of a flower just at the very top, which steadily spread back over itself as the stalk grew higher and thicker. The outer petals soon folded back over the end and capped the gray-ish/purplish stalk with a pale yellow head.

Some kind of thick sap oozed from the tip – like pre-come, I figured. This was more viscous, and there were lots of stringy little jet-black streaks in it, but just like pre-come it was delightfully slippery. It felt wonderful, in fact, and allowed my fingers and hand to slide easily and smoothly up and down the stalk as I gently jacked it like I would a boyfriend. It even smelled nice, I thought, just before I licked my lips and bent forward for a quick suck.

The sap had a very hard, almost chemical taste, and I moaned loudly as a wave of sensation rushed from my tongue throughout my body and mind. Had to be a pheremone or some kind of stimulant at least inside this stuff, but I didn’t really feel like stopping to run an analysis. Instead, I just felt myself getting hotter and hornier as I greedily licked at it.

Soon I was just boiling, and I knew I had to go at least a little further. When I took it in my mouth I could feel it pulsing hotly against my tongue and the back of my throat, and each time I pulled back to lick I could watch it grow and thicken another few millimeters. A mixture of the stringy fluid of the stalk and my own saliva soon soaked the neckline of my shirt, and after spending another moment enjoying the stalk orally I pulled myself away from it to think for a second. I tried to consider my options while my hand idly stroked up and down the pod’s rigid, stalky erection.

“Moment of truth,” I thought, wondering exactly how far I was really willing to take this. I’d fantasized about the spores for so long, though, and so far the reality was every bit as good as I imagined it would be.

How could I not at least try it?

And with that, I had decided. It’s incredible now, when I think about how momentous a choice I had just made – and how wonderful – but at the time I just blew right past it. Reaching down between my legs with a massive sigh of arousal, I worked to manuever the head of the broad, wet tube into the entrance to my pussy.

At first, however, I only managed to frustrate myself. The dimensions and weight of the stalk and the pod were all wrong. Sitting the way I was on the toilet seat, I couldn’t keep a good enough grip on the pod while guiding the stalk inside my pussy. I managed to stroke the end of it along my lips well enough, which really felt terrific, but between the huge size of the stalk and the weight of the pod, I couldn’t quite get the angle right to really get it inside myself.

With a flash of inspiration, I put the pod on the floor and then flipped around to kneel above it while supporting myself with my forearms on the toilet seat.

Well. That did it.

“Oh-oh-hohhh...... That’s perrrrrfect.....” I moaned as I drove the rod deep inside myself with a single stroke, and settled my hips firmly down atop the pod. I found I could kind of wedge the pod between my ankles, which gave me just enough leverage to work myself vigorously up and down the stalk. My arms soon collapsed underneath me as my clit slid delightfully along the wide, firm rod.

I must have been quite a sight – my face now all mashed up against the rim of the toilet seat, my sweaty hair matted across my forehead – but I couldn’t have cared less. I freed up my right hand to reach down and rub myself frantically as I felt the pod start rythmically contracting from its base up towards the stamen.

With a shudder, I looked down and saw a bulge about the size of a billiard ball start working its way up out of the pod. I sighed a bit when I realized it gave me something to grind myself against at the base of the stalk, and in a heartbeat I was grinding away with great panting gasps of pleasure. My efforts steadily worked my pussylips wider and wider and soon the ball was buried deep inside me.

Just the right size, it pressed delightfully against the upper wall of my cunt, and I groaned loudly now as each snap of my hips drove it another few delicious millimeters further along.

I soon felt the firm little ball bumping firmly against my cervix, and paused for a moment. “I can still stop,” I thought. “Maybe I should stop...”

As if in reply, the pod gave a last, final squeeze and fired the spore deep inside my womb. Drowning in sensation, I cried out loudly and came.

* * *

“Wend? You in here? Wendy?” asked Amy as she slowly opened the door to the bathroom. The beaker-shaped sign at the end of the keychain in her hand read “3rd Floor Xeno-Bio: Women’s,” and was nearly the size of a dinner plate. No one would mistakenly walk off with this bathroom key...

As she entered the bathroom, Amy must have seen my shadow or something underneath the handicapped stall, because I heard her say “Sweetie? That you? You’ve been gone for like, hours, I got worried. Wendy?”

“WENDY!!!” she shouted when she walked around the open door to the stall and found me all sprawled out on the floor next to the toilet.

“Wendy, oh, Wends...” whispered Amy, “What have you done?” She barely stifled a scream as she stared at the spore case throbbing between my naked thighs, the stamen still obscenely wedged deep inside my pussy. After a moment Amy rushed down to my side to cradle my head in her lap.

“Oh my Gods, Wendy...” said Amy, embracing me around the shoulders and gently brushing my sweaty hair out of my eyes. “What have you done?” She’s always been a really sweet friend.

“Mmmmm, hi Amy,” I replied kind of in a stupor, reaching up to stretch a bit and stroke my chest lightly.

Amy seemed right on the edge of tears. “Oh Wendy... Wendy, that’s one of the ... Did you ... Oh Gods, Wendy, what are you doing?”

“Amy,” I said, “I’m ... having some psycho-sexual reactions to the spores. Really big ones, over and over again. It’s fucking awesome.” A delicious ache of sexheat throbbed through my nipples and clit with each pounding heartbeat, and I dropped one hand down to gently stroke my tightly stretched pussylips as they still cradled the hefty stalk jutting out from the pod.

Amy looked like she felt her chest tightening, too. “No, Wend... But Wendy, why?”

“I had to, Amy. I had to. I’ve had this fantasy for as long as I can remember, but the real thing is sooo much hotter. I can already feel it changing me. It’s improving me, adapting me so I can be a better Gaian. The spores are Gaia-forming me, Amy... And it feels So Fucking Good...”

“Wendy, stop it. This is wrong, Wendy, you shouldn’t be doing this. W-Walters said these things were really dangerous.”

“Oh, she was right, they are dangerous. Very dangerous, in fact, depending on your perspective. But there’s so much Walters didn’t know about them, or about Gaia.” Amy simply stared back at me, so I tried to explain.

“It’s homeostatic, Amy. It’s a system, everything on the whole planet works together and is designed to maintain its own balance. When mankind got here it posed a threat to that balance, especially male mankind with all its aggression and this conqueror’s mentality... So Gaia specialized these spores as a way to move the men out of the picture and bring the planet back into balance. Think about it: if we didn’t need men for sex or reproduction, what would we need them for? Picking fights and starting wars? Do you know whose idea it was to eradicate the spores, Amy? I’ll give you a hint: it wasn’t the women.”

“Oh, Gods, Wendy...”

“Shhh, Amy, really, it’s all ok. Much better than ok, actually, it’s wonderful. Here, give me your hand.”

I gently took Amy’s hand and placed on my lower abdomen just above my mons. “Can you feel them?”

Amy nodded, and I saw her swallow hard as she must have realized what it was she was feeling inside her friend’s body, rolling gently around like tennis balls just inside my warm, soft tummy.

“It’s got three or four inside me already, I lost count. Looks like there’s only one to go...”

Amy and I shared a long, quiet look for several moments until the now visibly smaller pod started pulsing again.

I sighed hotly and whispered to Amy, “Ohhhhh, thank the Gods – it’s starting again, Amy. Here comes the last one, look.” Amy looked like she was ready to faint, given everything she just saw, felt, and heard, but she seemed fascinated to watch the base of the stamen stretch to accommodate the spore that began passing upwards towards my sex. “It’s sooo fucking good, Amy, soooo good... But I’m so tired. Will you help me?”

“Help you?” Amy whispered. “I don’t... Help you how?”

“Please,” I replied, pulling Amy’s fingers towards my clit, “just help me.”

“Wendy, don’t... I can’t, Wendy, please, I just can’t.”

“Of course you can, baby. I just need to come, and you know how good you are at that. Please, Ames. Please, just touch me...” Amy swallowed hard, and then gently slid her hand just a little further down my abdomen towards the top of my pussy.

I sighed deeply as my friend’s fingertips slid across my clit, and reached a hand up to touch her face in gratitude. We gazed into each others eyes as I ground myself against the steadily advancing spore. I must have winced a little in pleasure/pain when the ball finally slipped past my lips, but then I just moaned as it pressured me just right from the inside. Wordlessly, I helped Amy’s fingers match the pace of the pod’s pulsing and prodding.

I was working hard now and panting a little with the exertion, grinding my hips against the stalk and Amy’s hand. Lying in Amy’s lap, I kind of looped my left hand up behind her neck, and enjoyed the warmth of her breasts against my side. She just has the sexiest tits, and I couldn’t help but brush my right hand across them in a small, token effort to share the passion she was stoking between my legs.

Her nipples were big and hard like cherries, and feeling them under my palm turned my lust up even higher.

“It’s so good, Ames,” I whispered. “Oh Gods, I’m so close. Oh please, Amy... Please, help me come...”

Amy sped up her stroking and leaned in a little in response, and sighed when she saw me pull my knees up towards my head and the contractions in the spore case get stronger and more violent. I could tell she was conflicted as hell, but I was as hot as I’ve ever been in my life, and about to have the biggest cum ever.

Our eyes were locked together, and despite herself – just for an instant – I saw her just barely open her lips and slide her tongue to the front of her mouth. Knowing a chance when I saw one, I guided her lips down to mine so we could share a hot, passionate kiss.

My final orgasm was a big one, and long. I trembled in the afterglow for several moments afterwards, while Amy slowly disengaged from me and obviously wrestled with her own emotions.

I eventually opened my eyes, and touched her shoulder when I spoke. “Ohhh, thank you, Amy. Thank you so much....”

I used my other hand to gently rub my sore, raw sexlips, and then shifted my hips a little to let the now-shriveled pod stalk slip out of my vagina.

“Mmmmmmm...” I moaned, stretching after the hours-long, multiple-orgasms fuck I’d just enjoyed. Amy still just sat frozen in place, until eventually I spoke up to specifically address her. “Ames? You ok?”

“W-What?” replied Amy, shaken out of her stupor. “Am I ... uhh, yeah, no I’m... No... I don’t... Wendy, your eyes...”


“Your ... eyes, Wendy, th-they’re changing. You’re changing. Your eyes are, like, ... turning black. And ... look.” With a trembling hand, Amy pointed to the front of my shirt. Broad, wet stains had spread across my chest.

With a bit of a groan, I picked myself up out of the small puddle underneath my ass and walked stiffly out of the stall to go look in the mirror above the sink. I sighed a little at the wanton image staring back at me – sweaty hair matted all over my face; bottomless, with my neatly trimmed pussy still swollen and drippy; and my creamy hips and thighs framed enticingly between the bottom of my wet polo shirt and the tops of my knee socks. Quite a sight, if I do say so myself...

The stains on my shirt seemed centered on my breasts, and when I pulled my shirt up to investigate I found streaks of stringy black ooze leaking from my nipples. Also – and I might not have noticed it if I hadn’t made a point of looking for it – I found that my belly was visibly distended, and if you really looked close you could just barely make out a handful of small little lumps slowly shifting around just under my skin.

The image gave me another nice, sexy little aftershock and, turning from side to side to take it in from every angle, I reached up to use the slick liquid coming from my nipples to spin my fingertips around my aureolas. Stepping a little closer to the mirror, I gaped incredulously at the similar jet-black streaks now swirling around inside my eyes.

I smiled a crooked little smile at myself in the mirror, as I felt myself getting mildly aroused all over again – but I was all sexed out for the moment, and calmly walked back into the stall.

Amy was kind of huddled on the floor over in the corner, and she startled a bit when I re-appeared.

“Amy? Honey? You sure you’re ok?” I asked.

Amy looked up at me quickly, in silence, and then just stared back at the floor.

“Ames, listen to me: it’s ok, it really is. This is something I’ve read all about, and I know exactly what—”

“Wendy,” Amy interrupted. “Don’t explain. It’s not ... that’s not ...” She struggled to get the words out, and soon trailed off to a whisper.

“Look, you don’t have to worry, Amy, or be afraid, or anything like that, OK? I’m fine, I wanted this, and I just want to make sure you realize that.”

Amy still sat and stared back at me in silence. She looked like she had something to say, but just couldn’t bring herself to say it.

“Are you worried, Amy?”

She shook her head.


Amy just sat for a second, and eventually shook her head, but without quite as much certainty as before.

“Well then, please don’t just keep cowering over there, Ames, say something. I’m not going to bite you or any—”

“Wendy, what ...,” said Amy, suddenly, but again couldn’t seem to finish.

“Yes?” I replied. I walked over to the corner Amy was sitting in and crouched down next to her on the floor so I could stroke her hair like she had stroked mine, and could whisper to her at eye level.

Using her fingertips to lift her chin, I said, “Ames, whatever it is, it’s ok, really. You can tell me. What is it?”

“Wh-what... What ...,” said Amy, barely even whispering now, and finally looking me in the eyes.

“What does it feel like?”

I paused for just a moment, and gave myself a nice long chance to soak in the image of Amy’s delectable nipples poking through her shirt like cherries at the tips of her large, flawless breasts. With a broad smile, I then simply leaned back and reached for my backpack....

* * *

A couple hours later, we two girls stepped casually out the front door of the lab building. It was late evening now – not yet quite nighttime, but the sun had set and there were no more than a couple minutes of dusk left.

An observer would have found it odd, therefore, when Amy and I put our sunglasses on, but there was no one around the labs at this hour to see it.

After sharing a quick giggle, she and I hefted our heavy backpacks into place, held each other’s hands, and headed off towards the dorms with a spring in our step.